


Pretty Boy

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Gay Remus Lupin, Gay Sirius Black, Heavy Angst, Homelessness, Hurt Remus Lupin, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), POV Remus Lupin, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Young Remus Lupin, Young Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: All through Remus’ life he was called a ‘pretty boy’, and for all the wrongs reasons. Despite this, he doesn’t let it get him down, until posh boys Sirius Black unlocks something Remus didn’t know was there.(Attention readers: this fic depicts very sensitive topics such as heavy drug addiction, prostitution, references to sexual abuse and violence. Please consider your mental well-being before reading).
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	Pretty Boy

As a child, Remus never thought he’d be sat in a petrol station toilet preparing his habit by the time he was twenty. 

He fantasised about being a super hero when he was young, naturally, as every 8 year old does. That’s what he always wanted to be. By day he’d be Clark Kent, thick framed glasses would be perched on his startlingly beautiful face, working his nine to five like everyone else at his mundane office job. He’d gossip with his colleagues by the photocopier or the water cooler about this mysterious tyrant, swooping in to bring those in danger to refuge. Although Remus was definitely more of the Friendly Neighbourhood type, he let his fantasies grow. And then by evening, he’d wear his underpants over his latex suit with a red cape bellowing in the wind, even when he was stationary. Pressing his arms forward, he’d weave through the skyscrapers with ease, watching his reflection echo back through their polished windows. Soaring and gliding, feeling free from his dad’s grip, or his mother’s insistence. 

The high school career advisor was not at all pleased to hear this was his prospects for the future. 

“I hope you don’t believe superheroes to be real, Mr Lupin. Otherwise, I’d have some paperwork and safeguarding to do.” Mcgonagall had chastised on that bleak Tuesday afternoon. Remus memory recalled she was a stern woman, sharp and feline, bespectacled with square frames and thin lipped. He could remember that much, even if he was extremely stoned throughout the whole meeting. What he didn’t forget, though, was her disapproving gaze and her words as he left, “You can stop this, Remus. If not for my sake, your own.” And at that, Remus had scoffed and slammed the door behind him, returning to biology. _No one told Remus what to do_. 

Maybe it was the wrong crowd, maybe it was the abuse, but now Remus life was ruled by glove boxes and tin foil. If you asked Remus, he was perfectly okay with how things had turned out. He was free, living on a whim and practically having the world laid out in front of him. Of course, this was a lie. 

No longer was he the super hero who swooped down to save the suffering - he now was them who watched those swoop down to protect him. He was the vulnerable. Fragile wasn’t the word, out-of-hand possibly. Running away at eighteen wasn’t exactly the best decision when it came to considering the implications it had had on his life. Foundation-shaking it all had come to be, Remus just plowed on in nonchalance because that’s just what he has to do. Often, those put in his position would turn to self-loathing and that, Remus thought, was extremely irritating.

Amber bulbs flickered above his head as he finished preparing. Balancing his tin on the paper dispenser, he took the tube and the tinfoil with great enthusiasm. It had been too long, and the withdrawals had been fucking unbearable. Remus had only managed to scrape enough money to buy a measly gram, but something was better than nothing. Flames of the gas lighter flickered ominously, malicious but innocent all at once with it’s uses. It seemed so warm. 

Taking the pipe between his teeth, he got to work. He thought the shame would eventually disappear after almost two years of his recreational habit, but clearly it never got easier. Metallic smoke swirled up to the ceiling, approaching the flickering bulb. 

The familiar dissociation always came first. He felt distant, but kept going. It meant he was reaching the summit.

Eventually, Remus had used up the last of his functioning brain cells and propped his gear back on the tissue dispenser. Everything was dim but vehement all at once. Reality and inner-monologues would merge together, the line becoming blurred. Serene. It was the only way Remus had come to describing the elation he experienced whilst high. All his problems would drip from him, like some sort of sci-fi alien goop, green and slimy.

Maybe if he closed his eyes, the world would leave for a while; he could leave for a while. Practically living in Hades halls every single waking moment was bound to take its toll on him (especially someone so young). He arrived with his sacrifices of honey and black ox to speak to the Blind Prophet, seeking guidance or reassurance in his turmoil. All he found was hollow walls of flames and soot. Roaring of fire was all that could be heard, like rushing blood in his ears. All be dammed if Remus could hear anything but death again. Bound souls had dragged him under into the depth of Dante’s hell, and now he resided there in his dystopian existence.

But he was not Odysseus, and no one was waiting at his palace, defending his honour. Presumed to be dead was better than those he once knew discovering what had become of him. 

No arrows to shoot into a suitor’s skull, no loyal son to fight by his side. He only had the cattle of the Sun God to feast on, and suffer the wrath of Zeus. And _god_ , he was starving. Jupiter would clap down the thunder heavy on Neptune’s ocean with hurricanes of despair because Remus deserved it. Long-suffering and not the least bit cunning was Remus, and Homer was just a blind idiot who spewed Greek bullshit. 

He could still hear the lull of the buzzing bulb above his head, grounding him into the present.

Remus then realised, he’d nodded off unknowingly and had placed his head in his hands, almost falling off the closed toilet seat. Fuck, this is strong. Usually he could manage the intensity, but today had been especially difficult, so he let himself fall deep.

_Shit, he hadn’t meant to get this high._

He leant back and stared at the orange lamp.

Remus couldn’t lie, it felt fantastic. Maybe he couldn’t completely forget his mistakes, but he could buy it momentarily. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder and when Remus was high everything was just so beautiful. Topaz skies, emerald grass, ruby blood. It was all crystallised in his amber eyes, like a kaleidoscope in his retinas. Sounds were sweet and melancholy like the sun setting on a mellow summers day. 

It seemed to be centuries later when the feeling of floating finally ebbed away, and Remus could some-what function. Pushing himself up from the grimy toilet, he gathered his pathetic possessions into his backpack and headed out into the day.

Bright. That’s all Remus’ addled brain could produce as he squinted in the light. It seemed to be sometime around 3pm and Remus realised he had yet to find somewhere to rest his head tonight. He could get the tram into town centre and sit on Market Street for a while, or he could go to the Pettigrew’s house and beg to let him back in again (he’d been kicked out when Mr. Pettigrew discovered him snorting some crushed codeine off the edge of their bath).

Although Remus preferred the latter, despite its inability to fall successful, he opted to jump on the tram.

Making his way from the petrol station, he counted change in his hand. 87p wasn’t exactly a fortune, but he could possibly get a sausage roll from _Greggs_ and beg some business man for a fag as he passed.

The tram ride was slow, or maybe that was because he was really fucking high. It all seemed to move in slow motion like a slideshow or a Charlie Chaplin film. Surroundings were sepia toned and one of the older commuters was glancing every so often in his direction, scowling. Remus was used to that by now. His appearance wasn’t his priority (getting high being the first) and so usually ordinary people looked down on him in disdain. Honey blond curls were dishevelled in a way that said ‘I haven’t washed properly in a month since my friend’s dad kicked me out’ and his jeans were faded with stains. The knees especially, due to desperation in many instances.

Remus finally pulled into his stop, just outside _Debenhams_ and trudged off into the bustle of rush hour. People would see through him, like he was transparent. He probably was, Remus thought. Deathly pale and sullen with huge purple rings under his eyes. He was a ghost of himself now, the drugs taking everything he had with them, destroying who Remus was and wanted to be.

Market Street had a tendency to sweep you off your feet with it’s buskers and flamboyant shop windows. Someone was currently singing a song by Oasis (Remus was never really a fan) and many people were thronged around the music when he passed. Pigeons loitered along the pavement between shoppers, fluttering their navy wings and pecking their beaks on the flag stones. _Greggs_ was just across the way, past the station and further up into the square. 

He bought a single sausage roll after the employee eyed him suspiciously, and devoured it in 3 bites. Sometimes, he forgot he was hungry and would only realise his stomach rumbling when he came down from his high. 

Stumbling further down and towards the Northern Quarter, he passed shop windows which presented his reflection offensively before him. He looked like shit. His burnt orange sweater mangled with stains climbing the sleeves. A mop of matted curls drooping over his forehead - an excuse for a fringe concealing the madness beyond. Jeans torn on the knees with bruises and nightmares, grass scuffs on the shins, Remus tried to look on the bright side. He still had all his limbs. Anything was better than having no legs, surely? 

He continued on his familiar route, under the canopy and into the urban streets of Manchester. This was his main scouting area for begging and potential ‘customers’. Not as high-end as Market Street, filled with nifty vintage stores and dodgy takeaways with questionable hygiene ratings. Victorian terrace houses converted to restaurants were separated sparsely by shining shop windows, glistening in the spring sunshine. 

Sometimes, he thought he enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the city. Reverberations would echo around him and Remus could melt, dissociate from the smog and motors. He would let his teeth sink into potholes and curbs, calamitous and consuming façades of the city egging him into caves between shops. 

Considering Remus had practically left home with nothing, he had _nothing_ to carry with him. His backpack contained a variety of contraband, mixed with useless change and one set of clothes. Utterly unprepared he may seem for sleeping rough, Remus was smart enough to choose his doorways and alleys cautiously. The one time he hadn’t, Remus had been pissed on and kicked in the stomach until he could taste blood on his tongue. 

Turning into the familiar alleyway, Remus dug his hands in his pockets. It resided between a once barber shop and a cheap Indian takeaway named ‘ _Saffron_ ’. Waiting for him was a cluster of tents and tarps along with an empty skip. Many people were mulling around, slowly trudging back and forth, or were sat just outside the mouth of their tent. Majority of people here resembled Remus in his sunken and waxy complexion, visualising the phrase ‘ _fallen on bad times_ ’ (although that was probably an understatement). The tarps and tents were either yellowing, or growing damp with mould due to the season of downpour. It was a morbid atmosphere, sucking joy out of those who approached it - but it was all they had. Any compassion found within this network of people was only discovered by shared suffering, as those who you resided by were experiencing things just as you were. Depressing as it may be, Remus knew you had to cope somehow. 

Remus, almost subconsciously, turned into ‘business mode’. Leaning against a drain pipe on one of the walls sandwiching them, he cast a casual cool gaze across the tents. Channelling indifference when looking at something as melancholy as this was excruciating, especially when he realised this was his life too. Remus glanced down to his feet, lifting his big toe to peak through the hole in the canvas of his shoe.

As if on queue, a figure began to approach him in his peripheral.

“Hey sweet’art.” Said a phlegmy voice to Remus’ right. Whipping around, he saw a scrawny man towering over him. His yellow manky teeth flashed in a bitter smile, his intent not being suppressed for anyone’s comfort. He wore a large khaki coat with fingerless fraying gloves, accompanied by a trapper hat. The man edged closer, leaning in to whisper in Remus’ ear, “You comin’ wiv me, pretty boy?” His breath stank of stale beer and tobacco.

Remus was used to this by now, this business being nothing out the ordinary. It was best to be besides yourself when it came to this, confidence was key. Dissociating himself from the world, just for now, Remus spoke. “And what’s in it for me?”

”Oh, I fink I know what you want,” The man rasped, “Av ‘eard of you. Oh yes, little lad new to the streets, workin’ iz way round the tents for a bit of smack.” He tutted, “Naughty, naughty boy. But I’m sure you know that already.”

”At least you get to the point.”

”Don’t get cocky or the deal iz off.” The man grabbed Remus suddenly on his wrist and dragged him towards one of the tents in the far corner. Talons dug into Remus’ flesh, deep gouge marks resembling his suffering, the world he’d revealed to himself. Cigarette smoke and lager lingered, an aroma of terror.

 _That smell_. It sent fear dripping down his spine - or was it thrill? So reminiscent to his old home, before the streets, before the Pettigrew’s. His father’s ruthlessly tight grip on his shoulder, the smell of alcohol on his breath as he told Remus to stay still, that it’d all be okay if he did. 

No time was wasted, and Remus was pushed to his knees before the man had fully zipped the tent. 

Four hours later, Remus sat in the doorway of a derelict shop, nodding off occasionally. It was growing dark, and no one in the alley was willing to give up room for him. So tonight, Remus had to make do with a small cotton blanket wrapped around his malnourished frame, and _Costa Coffee_ cup propped in front of him. Fortunately, the weather had just resurfaced from a bad winter and spring was being introduced enthusiastically. That didn’t stop icy winds curating as the sky turned from blue to black, punching the breath out of his lungs. 

The streets became sparser as the evening became thick. Earlier, the man (who he still didn’t know the name of), had tipped his cronies about Remus, and he had had a thoroughly busy afternoon. Payed in heroin and a five pound note, Remus wished he could say he was pleased.

Stomach bubbling in shame, Remus wrapped the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders. He wished he could say he was trying, that things were getting better. But everything in that current moment seemed to contradict the former, because 1) he was high, again, 2) he was on the streets and 3) the cold tiles were making his arse numb. Leaning his head against the newspapered window, Remus briefly considered his options. 

He’d been on the streets before, having previously run away at 16, sleeping rough for four days. Remus and his father had had a screaming match over finding a mysterious bag of powder in his back pocket, falling out as Hope (his mother) was hanging the washing up. It wasn’t so bad with it being August and the sun blazing amidst a heatwave. So-called ‘mates’ would meet up with him in the backfields with dandelions and cigarettes, getting high on md, watching their pupils dilate, jaws going stiff. Remus remember the grinding of teeth, eyes rolling and just feeling _amazing_. The myth of freedom had resonated with him after the police eventually caught up to him. Of course, Remus really wasn’t free, the drugs following him everywhere despite always having to always chase down the high. They lingered in the corners of his consciousness, the urge or temptation never fully being forgotten. Crannies filled with his deepest, most deplorable desires, bleeding out until ichor bled navy on the carpet. Resisting, handcuffs, fingerprints, four wall cells and a phone call to his parents had Remus escorted back to a more familiar jail; his bedroom. 

Allowing yourself to be depressed meant self-loathing, giving your trauma permission to ruin you, burn you from the inside out like molten silver. Remus didn’t want that and as a result, he hadn’t cried in what felt like years. Silver wasn’t like the gems that he saw whilst elated. It was searing metal that coursed through his arteries, heavy and unforgiving. Remus would see black as the pain of the past would boil in the back of his eyes, the world going somewhere unknown. Why should he give his father what he’s always wanted from Remus? Lyall hadn’t broken him, no, Remus was whole and capable. Besides, even if he had, Remus wouldn’t appear vulnerable to anyone anyway, no matter how much he was breaking inside. 

Occasional strobes of headlights flitted across the faded brick, causing Remus to jerk awake to the rumble of engines. Tangy cold made his cheeks pink as the night drew closer, Stygian skies approaching with vigour. He longed to see the stars, see them coruscating in mosaic, their twinkle in time to the thump of his pulse, throbbing with the light-year old energy gracing everyone with their underrated presence. Remus would search for Jupiter - which would show itself over Manchester - a particular glowing entity, enticing and enigmatic with every flutter of glistening starlight. Soothing as it was, it represented how small they were in the vastness of the universe. A speck of dust in a stadium, a grain of sand on water’s edge, a beetle in the Amazon, the scale was uncharted. Incomprehensible.

All the philosophical thinking left a dull throb in the side of Remus’ skull. Everything became dark and Remus slipped into unconsciousness. 

He dreamt of collapsing stars and embers of cigarettes. 

***  
  


”Oi, mate are you alright?” An unfamiliar voice called from somewhere in the distance. “Shit... Please don’t be dead! Oh my god.”

Remus grumbled, curling inwards on himself to protect his gut from being trampled on. There was a loud sigh of relief.

”Jesus christ, I thought you’d gone for a second. Everyone was just walking past you and I just got really worried, no one seemed to be checking.”

Remus gingerly opened one eye to find himself lying on his side in the same doorway he had stumbled into the previous night. The sun was now peeking over the tops of the buildings, roofs being illuminated and shadows being created on the streets below. Intense jolts of pain flashed through his forehead, down through his eyes and across his temple. His muscles were stiff and aching from the unforgiving concrete beneath him, dirt on the side of his face from where he lay. Squinting, Remus looked over to see a man crouched by his side, hands on his knees. “Fuck.”

”Shit, you don’t sound too good mate.”

”What do you want?” Remus grumbled, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. Everything tilted slightly on it’s axis, hazy vision becoming vivid with the incline. 

”I don’t want anything, I was just checking if you were okay.” The stranger shot back, “But if that’s how you’re repaying me, I think I’m wasting my time.” The man then began to straighten himself up, dusting off his jeans.

”Wait, I’m sorry. I’ve just woken up that’s all.” Remus blanched for a second, and then finally met eyes with his ‘ _guardian angel_ ’ so to speak. 

Remus inhaled sharply, seeing an actual _halo_ above this man’s long locks. On second glance, it was actually the sun behind the terraces, but still. Eyes of stormy grey peered down at him with mild distaste, overclouded by concern. Sharp angles of a jaw and cheekbones so high caused unaccustomed shadows on this man’s striking features. Remus presumed he was older by a few years, holding himself in a manner of aristocracy and maturity that also seemed awfully casual. All broad shouldered and a heavy leather jacket, he shrugged. The man’s hands were pressed deeply into his large pockets before being extracted and held out before Remus. 

”I don’t usually do this, but I don’t have anywhere to be. Plus, you look dreadful.” He wrinkled his nose, “No offence.”

Remus just snorted, ignoring the hand and hastily pulling himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. “Don’t usually do what, exactly?”

”I don’t know, speak to the homeless?” The angel stated, unaware of his lack of tact.

” _’Speak to the homeless’!”_ Remus chortled bitterly, “Why, are we not worth your time Mr. Bourgeoisie?”

”No no!” The man stammered, his cheeks turning flush with a shade of pink, “I thought maybe I could buy you something to eat, there’s a coffee-“

”And what makes you think I trust you, hm? You’re not the first to make me promises.”

”Mate, please just listen.” The stranger sighed, “You look so young, I don’t think my conscience could handle just leaving you here...”

”Oh, so this is about your conscience is it? Not about the _poor homeless boy_ , no? All about you, just like the rest of your lot.” Remus seethed.

The angel flushed even further, his face turning a violent shade of puce, his knuckles white as he clenched them at his sides. Remus could practically see his veins pumping, blood running fast, heart accelerating with anger, because _the audacity_. “Fine! Be like that! I was only trying to fucking help you! No wonder you’re on the streets! I’ll think next time before helping someone like _you_. Now if you’ll excuse me-“ He spat before turning on his heel and beginning to stalk away.

Remus stared after the retreated figure, bile climbing up his throat and into his mouth, acidic on his tastebuds. Withdrawals were beginning to kick in with knew found vehemence, a volcano of displeasure. He doubled over, retching once, twice, hand flying out for leverage on the glass window. Nothing came out, as usual. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks, his stomach hollow and undernourished. 

“C’mon, now you’re just making me feel guilty...” 

The angel was back, standing awkwardly at his side. Remus saw him lift a hand hesitantly out the corner of his eye, watching it drop back to his side fruitlessly. Eyes streaming, a sour taste in his mouth, Remus pulled himself up right. Rubbing the heel of his palm into one eye, he sighed. 

“I’m sorry about exploding, I can’t imagine...” The man trailed off. “Just let me get you a meal, or even a pot noodle.”

”And where will I get boiling water?” Remus quipped

”Oh yeah... Shit.”

Remus figured then that this guy won’t be leaving him alone any time soon, being unable to scare him off with his _‘street face_ ’. ”Fine. You can buy me this meal and then I’ll be on my way, no insisting on being the good samaritan.” He shook his head, “I’m doing this for you and your conscience.”

The angel chuckled, more out of embarrassment than humour, and gestured with his arm down the street. “The coffee place is just round the corner, I’ll buy you breakfast.” He began strolling, looking over his shoulder tentatively to see if Remus was following. “I’m Sirius by the way.”

”Yeah, I know you are.”

The angel sighed briefly, as if Remus was _oh so silly_ , and planted his palm flat on his chest, “No, my name is Sirius.”

Remus copied Sirius cockily, placing a palm on his sternum with a flourish, “My name is Remus.”

“Remus.” Sirius tested, rolling the vowels on his tongue, “Like the twin?”

Remus picked up his backpack, stuffing his blanket hastily inside before beginning to trot at Sirius side. ”Know your mythology, hm?”

“Not as much as astronomy.” Sirius said, turning and winking at Remus. He felt his stomach roll, the second wave of nausea overcoming his senses. So this was why the angel wanted to buy him a meal, so he could take him back his and get an easy shag? Was he really so fucking idiotic to believe this _Sirius_ wanted to help him at all? Was it just a show, prolonged foreplay for his pleasure and Remus torment? He new the hints his ‘clients’ throw when they wanted business. The winks, tongues seductively brushing across their bottom lips. He stopped dead in his tracks. Bile began to climb his throat again, but he swallowed it down.

”Why don’t we skip the foreplay and get straight to the point,” Remus grimaced, “what do I get in payment?”

Sirius seemed genuinely surprised by Remus’ query, stopping a couple paces ahead and quirking his head to the side. “What are you talking about Remus?”

Remus suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable, “I- I thought...”

Realisation seemed to dawn over Sirius’ features, quickly replaced with a look of disgust. Scrunching his face up, his mouth twisted into a frown of silent rage. “You really think I look like the type of person to- to-“

”Maybe this was a mistake-“

”No no!” Sirius said for the second time that morning, “It’s okay, I get it.” Although Remus knew he really couldn’t. He took a deep breath and held his hands out in front of him, visually trying to keep his calm. He nodded his head down the street. “Just down here.”

They continued in silence, another headache throbbing at the side of Remus’ skull.

‘Diggory’s Diner’ was a dainty breakfast place decked with odd mismatched paintings that were purchased second-hand. Each frame was different from the next, charcoal smudges and slick acrylic diversely bringing the pale yellow walls alive. Along the wall to their right, a row of leather booths faced outwards towards adjacent wooden chairs. It was quiet, probably a bit late for breakfast, and the air was still with anticipation for the oncoming lunch hour. An oak counter was to the left, jars of various coffee beans lined along the rickety shelves behind. An old cash machine and a tip cup were sat next to a man with brunette hair, his chin resting in his palm. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties. To the side, a door that led to the kitchen was placed. 

“Alright Amos?” Sirius greeted, walking over to one of the chairs, and gesturing Remus to do the same. He complied, sliding into the booth.

Amos gave a yawn, stretching out his stubby arms and ambling over to Sirius and Remus. “Nice to see you mate,” He clapped Sirius on the shoulder and then moved over to look at Remus. Something passed across his face that looked a lot like discomfort, and he plucked his notepad from his pocket. Clicking his pen, he peered at Sirius over the pad with watery eyes. “What’s it today?”

”I’ll have a black coffee please-“ Sirius’ eyes flickered towards Remus and then back to Amos, “-and Remus will have a full English with hot chocolate.” He tapped his chin with the tips of his fingers, “A jug of water also, please”

”W-“ Remus began to protest, but was interrupted by Amos.

”Black coffee, full english, hot chocolate along with a jug of water,” He muttered absently to himself, “Coming right up!” Amos spun around, stumbling back towards the counter and disappearing into the kitchen. 

They were the only people in the diner, besides a lone pensioner slowly stirring his coffee, a pile of sugar packets on his table. Faintly, BBC 1 was playing from the radio on the windowsill. It filled the silence - that and the clinking of the old man’s spoon in his cup. Sirius and Remus remained quiet, until:

“So Remus,” Sirius began, “How long have you been-“

”A month. Not the first time, though.”

”Oh.”

And then awkward silence descended again, a thick blanket of agitation at what they’d both got themselves into. Aromas of cooking grease and bacon hung stubbornly to the shop, ill-fitting for the current mood. Remus huffed.

”I get by, you know? It’s not that bad really. I’m not saying that it’s enjoyable, but I guess things could be worse.” Remus stated, running the pad of his finger over a groove in the table top.

”I don’t think I believe that.” Sirius replied with sincerity.

”How could you know?” Sirius looked down at his hands in his lap, wringing then beneath the table. Remus’ impression of the angel was beginning to alter, his demeanour shifting as they slowly got to know each other. Sirius seemed rather unsure of himself, possibly not certain what he should say, and if it would be appropriate. Bravado gone, he seemed something of a chaotic mess.

Sirius opened his mouth as if going to speak, and then closed it again hopelessly. 

“About what you said before-“

“I said no good samaritan.”

The kitchen door flung open, hitting the wall with a _smack_ as Amos reappeared. He was juggling a tray with mugs, glass cups and a plate in one hand, a water decanter in the other. He approached, sliding the tray from his grip and onto the table before them. Putting the decanter down, he began to pass out the mugs and pushed Remus plate so it was below his chin. 

Remus’ mouth watered as he stared at the feast before him: juicy fried tomatoes and mushrooms, french toast lathered in thick butter, crispy bacon (fat and all), golden hash browns, succulent sausages and a handsome portion of beans. Remus’ fingers twitched on the table, itching to just use his hands and devour everything in sight. His stomach audibly rumbled. 

“Not bad, huh?” Remus glanced through his eyelashes to see Sirius smirking at him over his mug of coffee. Steam was curling over his sharp features, accurately replicating the colours in Sirius’ eyes. 

“Shut up.” Remus lifted his cutlery, hesitating before stabbing his fork violently into a sausage. He held it to his mouth, chewing from the prongs rather than cutting it into slices. “S’good” He said between bites.

Sirius chuckled, raising his mug to his lips again. “Thought you’d like it.”

“You don’t know anything about me mate.”

“I knew that you were starving, that’s a start isn’t it?” Remus shrugged at that, puncturing a diced fried tomato and chewing thoughtfully.

”I know you said not to be the good samaritan,” Sirius said, before continuing warily, his words careful and calculated, “but you looked like death warmed up when I saw you in the doorway, I don’t want you to end up like that again. You can’t expect me to do nothing about it.”

Remus swallowed a piece of hash brown. “Don’t worry about me.”

Sighing, Sirius swirled his coffee dregs around in his mug. His eyes caught Remus’ across the table. “Are you sure?”

”For fucks sake, yes! I told you, I’m heading off after this if you like it or not-“ Remus stood up abruptly, grabbing his backpack from his side, “-I’m going to take a piss.”

The food hadn’t been nearly enough to drown out the incessant throbbing in his forehead, like a caged animal clawing at his skull, desperate for liberation. Talons - just like the man in the alley - gauged and scratched it’s way to freedom, Remus finally allowing the evil to run free. Swaggering, he reached the single toilet and locked the door behind him. He sank onto the closed seat, setting his head in his hands. There was a sheen of sweat on his temples sticking his fringe there, his hands clammy. Taking a deep breath, he reached for his backpack and unzipped it. 

A while later, Remus unlocked the door and sauntered out, sated and blissfully not sober. He saw Sirius straighten from where he was hunched over his phone, head shooting up. He looked at Remus, apparently searching for something particular, he wasn’t sure what. Nodding, as if his assumptions had been correct, he leaned back in his seat with a closed expression on his aristocratic face.

Sliding into the booth, Remus fixed him with an easy smile. He didn’t care he’d just called out his ‘guardian angel’ to this empty diner, his face looking exceedingly more beautiful now he was high. Sirius’ eyes twinkled in the dim light of the shop, a thunder storm in his gaze. It was just like Remus’ fucked up train of thought at the petrol station, Jupiter clapping thunder down on Neptune’s oceans, and here Sirius was - the lightning in the storm. Long eyelashes would brush his unblemished alabaster cheeks when he blinked, fluttering just so that it was almost illegal. Remus leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin in his palm.

”Alright?” The gorgeous man asked. Remus sighed wistfully.

”Yeah...” He’d been staring for a suspiciously long time, he noticed, and leaned back again, looking down at his scraped plate, his untouched hot chocolate. “I haven’t drank my hot chocolate.”

Sirius gave a noncommittal hum, hands on the table as he twirled his thumbs together. “You took a while in the bathroom.”

”Did I? I didn’t notice...” Remus ran a finger around the rim of his mug, becoming entranced immediately by the repetitive motion. His eyelids felt heavy, drooping dangerously as if he’d drop off-

“Remus?” Sirius voice came from beyond, a strong hand now holding his own, stopping it from tracing the lip of the cup, although Remus wasn’t sure when he had stopped. “You were falling asleep there.”

Remus just snorted, staring at where their hands joined. _Sparks_. “Yeah yeah-“ Trying to bat away Sirius hand only made him grip tighter, “-jus’ tired.”

”I’m sure you are, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”

”And what the fuck do you know?” Remus quipped, despite his struggle to cling to consciousness. “Think you can just start prodding like you own me? Go fuck yourself, Sirius.”

The angel drew his hand away, and Remus saw the halo’s glow diminish above his crown. An expression of anger, then hurt crossed his features simultaneously. Blood rushed to his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, suddenly making him look unattractive in his fury. Shaking his head, Sirius folded his arms across his chest, a symbol of defiance. “You’re high as a kite right now.”

Remus scoffed, mirroring Sirius’ position, a symbol of mockery. “Got a problem?”

”I do, actually.”

”Oh really? Please indulge, I’d love to hear it.”

”I go out my way to check if you’re alright, buy you breakfast despite you being a complete twat, and then you go and snort or inject- whatever you do, in my friend’s toilet.” Sirius appeared mutinous, looking at Remus with all the incredulity he could muster. 

”I snorted, usually smoke but I like to mix it up from time to time.” Remus said casually, examining his cuticles.

”Shit-“ Sirius slammed his fist into the table top, cutlery rattling with the force. He pulled his eyes away from Remus, as if he was too painful to behold. Remus didn’t blame him, he was anything but beauty. “Are you always like this?”

”Only for you.” Remus teased, lounging back in the leather of the booth. 

“Mood swings, change like the fucking weather you do.” Sirius joked, although he didn’t seem to find it all that funny. The man tucked his silky dark hair behind his ear, and Remus noted (with glee), that Sirius’ lobe was pierced with a single glistening stud. Swirling his tongue around it would probably be delightful, along with biting at it, dragging it between his teeth. “Why do you do it?”

”Shits and giggles. _Why do you think?_ ” Remus replied sharply, now staring out the window onto the busy high street. A woman was pushing her baby in a pram, a phone pressed between her cheek and shoulder as she fumbled in her purse. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m fucking asking.”

Remus sighed, putting his head in his hands, feeling reality slip from his fingers like the butter on his french toast. 

“I’m doing what I can to cope.” He said bluntly, voice muffled by the sleeves of his jumper he’d pulled over his palms.

”Fuck Remus, you don’t-“

”I’m leaving now,“ Remus announced, crawling out of the well he was descending. He knew once he began to slope towards darkness, towards bliss, he wouldn’t return until the ocean of sobriety lapped his shores. He scrambled to his feet hastily. “thank you for the breakfast, but I have places to be.” Hitching his bag over his shoulder, he strode towards the diner’s exit. His hand reached for the handle when Sirius called after him.

”Wait! Remus!” 

He tried to ignore how it sounded like Hope before he left their house for the last time. He remembers wrenching the front door open, trainers scuffing on the stupid fucking ‘ _live laugh love_ ’ doormat as he slammed the door in her face. He heard the sobs from inside, the booming of Lyall as Remus trudged down the gravel. He could almost hear it now; almost, not with the drugs. Making the distance to the handle, he yanked the door open and strode out into the day. 

Bright. As always. He squinted, placing a hand over his t-zone and began to make his way down the pavement, en route to Market Street. 

What was he even thinking? Dumb enough to believe maybe, _maybe_ , he wouldn’t fuck up when someone started to give a shit. Opportunities would always fall apart at the seams when Remus was concerned, snapping the thread and crushing the foundations to nothing - because that’s what he did. A catastrophic tornado in an ocean to conquest, annihilating everything in it’s course. He’d rip friendships, families, _lives_ to shreds, reckless and selfish in the destruction left in his wake. Remus just couldn’t. He couldn’t obediently follow the boundaries set by the one’s he used to love - tracing the perimeter, looking for breaches in the rules, loopholes to get his own way because _no one told Remus what to do._

Suddenly, his woollen jumper was being pulled from the centre of his back, stopping him from walking any further. Collar caught around his throat, he spluttered and writhed against it. The grip drew tighter, fabric rubbing friction onto his chest as he resisted against the force. “Get the fuck off me!”

”Listen to me you fucking smack head! I don’t appreciate being shit on, especially when I was just trying to be fucking nice for once.” Sirius all but screamed from over Remus’ shoulder. “Oh and by the way, my mate Jamie is a fed so I’d fucking behave yourself. You’re lucky I didn’t text him as soon as you walked out that fucking bathroom!”

“LET THE FUCK GO!”

Sirius complied, and Remus whipped around to see his chest rising and falling rapidly, his throat taut with anger and fists clenched. Plumes of breath ascended in the morning air, clouding Remus’ vision from seeing Sirius above him. Leaning in close, he jabbed a finger to Remus’ chest, tremors of anger rippling through his figure. Remus shrivelled under the tall frame towering him, reminded of his father. 

“You’re going to come with me to my flat, and I’m going to call my sister-in-law,“ He pierced the finger further into Remus’ chest, “she’s a social worker, and we’re going to try and help. Okay?”

Remus just nodded, looking around desperately, but he wasn’t sure for what. Gulping, he let Sirius drag him by the wrist towards the Uber he’d ordered.

***

Sirius’ flat was crammed with vinyls in covers bearing David Bowie and Queen. It was airy and full of light, residing at the top floor of a new build in Greater Manchester. Remus danced gingerly around the living room, fingers skimming over the vinyls on the shelves. Sirius would flinch ever so slightly when Remus’ hands would grab at a record, occasionally accompanied by ‘stop touching’.

Lofty ceilings hung above them, expensive furniture scattered around the room. There were no sentimental items from what Remus could see, most of it being framed posters of some guy in a mullet, probably from the eighties. He wondered briefly what Sirius’ profession was, if he was some chief whats-it. He did mention his mate was a pig, but if Sirius was one himself he would’ve done something regardless, not threaten to text his buddies, so maybe not then. 

“What’s your job?” Remus asked lightly, leaning against the wall and turning over a Pink Floyd sleeve in his hands.

”None of your business.”

”Oooo” Remus teased, placing the vinyl back on the shelf. “Wouldn’t have guessed you were uptight.” He gestured around the flat.

”Do you ever shut up?”

”It’s so big, my voice even has an echo! Listen-“ Remus cupped his hands around his mouth, “- ECHO!” There was, in fact, no echo, but Remus made sure to mutter the word a few times under his breath to accentuate his point. “See?” He said, placing a hand on his hip.

Sirius just raised an eyebrow and looked back down to his phone. Several silver rings round his fingers glimmered in the bleak rays through the expansive windows, looking down onto the streets below. The angel was sat on what looked like an expensive leather couch (like, real leather), his hair falling in curtains over the knife of his cheekbones and jaw. “Just sit and be still please.”

Huffing, Remus threw himself on the couch, bouncing Sirius next to him. Glaring coldly, he checked his thick golden watch on his pale wrist. “Lily should be here very soon.”

”Good.”

”Great.”

”Amazing.”

Remus was just in the mood to piss him off, giddy from being somewhere so fancy; somewhere he shouldn’t be. Things like this ought to be prohibited, a druggie in a rich guys little penthouse. All the glossy walls were pristine white, like all wealthy people’s choice in paint. Maybe this was like _Pretty Woman_? Remus was Julia Roberts and Sirius would take him to fancy dinners before-

“Can you stop fucking fidgeting?”

”Sorry.”

A buzzing noise came from the doorway and Sirius pushed himself up off the sofa to answer the intercom down the hallway. He heard Sirius whispering something, and the tinny sound of a woman’s voice. There was then a _beep,_ signalling Lily’s arrival. 

More whispering from Sirius’ part when he opened door, probably ushering Lily in. Remus caught snippets of the conversation, things like: ‘thank god you’re here’ and ‘he’s off his tits, by the way’. Lily’s voice rang through the apartment, but it wasn’t harsh. Mellow and gentle, breathy and sweet like pollen in the wind. 

They both appeared around the corner of the hallway, Sirius wringing his hands as he stood behind Lily. 

She had a powerful presence, deep red hair that waved just past her shoulders, piercing emerald eyes and so, _so_ many freckles. Petite though she was, Sirius seemed to look at her as ‘in charge’, despite it being his flat, shrinking under her aura. She wore grey plaid pants with a white blouse tucked in at the paper-bag waist. 

“I’ll make brews,“ Sirius began walking to another door that presumably led into the kitchen, “Remus, would you like one too?” 

“Yeah, ta.” 

Sirius disappeared through the doorway, casting one anxious look over his shoulder towards Lily, who gave him a reassuring smile. Sitting down on the sofa next to Remus, she turned her whole body to face him, “Hi Remus, my name is Lily, but I’m sure Sirius has told you about me.”

”He just said your name is Lily and you’re a social worker.”

”I see...” She trailed off as she fingered through papers in her satchel. Pulling out a notebook and a biro, she perched them on her crossed legs, giving Remus a gentle smile. “Sirius told me over the phone what happened, and I think he’s right to be concerned. But first, tell me a bit about yourself.”

Remus tensed at the question, trying to rack his brain for interesting things about himself. “My full name is Remus John Lupin, I am twenty years old and my birthday is on the 10th March.” Lily was jotting things down as he spoke, “I’m originally from Moss Side, currently residing wherever I can but as of last night I was in a doorway, apparently.” He glared at the doorway Sirius disappeared through.

”Yes, he told me he found you in the Northern Quarter, yes?” Remus nodded, “Mhm, I’m not local so if I get muddled please feel free to correct me.“ She paused, tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear, “Sirius said you weren’t happy to see him at first, am I right about this also?”

”He didn’t seem too happy either.” Remus grumbled.

Lily promptly ignored him. “He took you to Amos’ cafe, and he bought you food. Half way through, you had a disagreement and you went into the bathroom...” She pressed her lips together, looking Remus directly in the eyes. He felt exposed, laid bare in front of her as she pierced those bright eyes into his soul. “What happened between then and coming back into the diner, Remus?”

Remus looked down, pulling idly at a loose thread on his jumper sleeve. “Don’t you think that’s obvious? Went for a piss.”

Lily frowned sadly and placed her tiny hand on Remus’ knee. It was affectionate but uncomfortable, due to the fact Remus wasn’t used to people being so friendly with him. “It’s okay Remus. You don’t have to tell me everything at once, but I think it would be beneficial if you could tell me some things about what’s going on.” She patted his kneecap softly before withdrawing her hand, scrawling something on her pad.

Sirius then chose that moment to return with cups of tea, placing them on the glass coffee table in front of them. “Do you want me to...” He trailed off, nodding his head towards the door again.

”It’s up to Remus,” Lily said, then turned to Remus himself, “Remus?”

”Um, no it’s fine. He can stay, he found me after all.”

Nodding curtly, Sirius padded over to the arm chair next to the sofa and sat down slowly. Sirius lounged, placing his ankle on the other legs knee, swirling his sock clad foot.

”Okay Remus, how about we start from the beginning.” Lily wrote something quickly on the paper and then looked up again to meet Remus’ gaze, “How did you end up where you are today?”

”Well-“ Remus sighed, “-when I was 18 I was abducted by aliens and have been away for a hundred years. Of course, I haven’t aged because of special alien technology, and when I arrived back home, all my relatives had sadly passed. I had no where to go, so here I am, sleeping in doorways.” 

Drugs had turned him into a liar.

Remus heard Sirius scoff to his left, his arms folding across his chest like they did in ‘Diggory’s Diner’. Why was he so fucking heated all the time?

”What’s so funny?”

”Nothing.”

It was Lily’s turn to sigh now, “Remus, I can’t help you if you don’t start cooperating.”

”Fine.” Remus gripped his thighs through his jeans, dipping his nails into the fabric, trying to pierce the flesh beneath. He knew when he pulls them off later, crescent moon gouges would be swelling on his pale thighs. “When I was 18-“ Lily cast him a look of warning , “-I ran away from my parents to my mate’s house, Peter. He took me in for a while, almost two years in fact, but they didn’t know- and when they found out, well, I had to leave.” He looked up sheepishly to Lily, who just nodded for him to continue. “That was a month or two ago, I don’t really have a way to count the days, I left my phone at Peter’s. Since then I’ve been sleeping on the streets, sometimes in tents if people are nice enough-“ He swallowed, “-I haven’t got any money, uh, so... Can we stop?”

”You were doing amazing Remus, I’m sure Sirius will agree.” She shot a stern look at the other man, “Right, Sirius?” He nodded, looking particularly interested in his thumb nail.

Remus reached out for his mug of tea - mainly for something to do - and took a sip, careful not to spill anything on the immaculate carpet. Lily wasn’t looking at him with pity or disgust, her face was determined but calm, jaw set and her arms folded. She exuded the maturity he once thought Sirius had. A long silence exhumed, making Remus feel the need to contribute, to fill the lack of conversation, “What’s going to happen now?”

”Well,” Lily uncrossed her legs, placing her brogues flat on the floor, “I had a look for some hostels before I came, but because they’re full and you’re not a minor, they’re unwilling to allow you a room.” 

“I don’t want a place-“

”But,” Lily interrupted, “we can start you a prescription of methadone to ease you off. You can just go to the pharmacist and-“

Remus felt shame and anger bubbling in his stomach, climbing into his lungs and burning a hole in his windpipe. He cut her off, ”If you think,” He started, his voice shaking, “that I’m doing what you tell me to just because- because...” 

Lily coaxed him with a look of sincerity, tucking the same fly-away strand of auburn hair behind her ear again. Leaning forward in his chair, Sirius was twirling his thumbs like he did at the diner, a nervous tick. The tension was palpable, thick like honey drizzling into a puddle of unfamiliarity. 

Finally, the angel broke the spell of silence. “I have room.”

”No way, definitely not.” Remus stood quickly from the couch, manoeuvring himself around the coffee table and banged his shin, blossoming a bruise. there. He picked up his bag, “I’m not-“ he unzipped it, “-staying here-“ he began to search for his tin for when he got the _hell_ out of there, “-just because you pity me.” He then zipped up his bag and turned on his heel. Sirius was now stood before him, arms folded and scowling vehemently. Lily was still perched on the sofa behind him, gripping the edge of her notebook with her eyebrows knitted together.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid. I’m offering you something I don’t think any other person would, and you’re refusing it?” He took a bold step forward, towering over Remus like he did outside the diner, “Are you really _that_ far gone Remus? Do you honestly want to be like this for the rest of your life?”

”N-no, I don’t think-“

”Well then! You’ll stay in my spare room on the promise you don’t use at all, outside the flat or inside. Deal?” Remus nodded erratically, clutching his backpack to his chest, “You don’t have any on you now, do you?”

”No.” Remus lied, “The last of it, at the diner.”

Sirius looked him over, from the tips of his toes to a wisp of a curl at the top of his crown. Everything seemed so complicated, like it’d never be simple ever again. Remus knew his life was on the brink of changing, balancing precariously on a tightrope, the abyss below him. Taking a large step back, Sirius shook his head solemnly. “I’ll probably regret trusting you, but for now I will.”

”Okay, but you can’t hold me hostage. I can leave whenever I want, and you don’t get to determine what I do.” Remus demanded, “Besides what we’ve just established, of course...”

”Fine.” With that, he headed towards the kitchen, turning the corner and vanishing from sight. 

Lily was now at Remus’ side, a hand placed softly on his shoulder. He could float away at any moment, like he did at the peak of his high when the world was dim. She was anchoring his vessel, mooring him to stop his soul drifting out to sea. Letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Remus turned to face her. Lily had her satchel over her shoulder, a coat folded across her forearm, an expression of genuine worry on her round face. “You’ll be okay Remus.”

And Remus almost believed her, because at that moment, he had the first glimmer of hope in a long time.

***

Awakening to gentle cotton sheets and the soft hum of a TV was a surprise at first. Remus jolted awake, sitting rigid as his eyes raked across the room.

He was alone, a white room with morning sun peaking through the blinds, dancing pale yellow beams across the snowy walls. Rumbling of commuting traffic travelled into the chamber through the crack of the open window. His clothes were folded at the end of the bed where they’d been through the wash - his burnt orange jumper looking more welcoming than it ever had. A cool draft cascaded in from the city outside, bathing the room in a dream-like atmosphere. Faintly, Remus could hear footsteps in the flat beyond, reminding him what had happened, and where he was. 

When Lily had left after a quiet conversation with Sirius, him and Remus had had a ‘talk’ of some sorts. Sirius stated that Remus was not permitted to go snooping, and that he was still a guest in his apartment. When Sirius would leave the house, Remus was reminded of the no drugs rule that he had to stick to, and if Sirius found out he was using, he’d be kicked to the curb. Remus just nodded, saying that he understood, not wanting to take away this golden opportunity. 

It didn’t feel like this was out the kindness of Sirius’ heart, it was like he felt obliged to take Remus in. Nothing about him was close to Lily, all sharp and straight-forward. Maybe that’s what Remus needs, someone who won’t bullshit him and tell him when he tremendously cocked-up. 

After their ‘talk’, Sirius had gone back out into the spring air, saying he was going to ‘ _Prongs’ house’._ Remus had no inclination at what that meant, but said bye anyway, watching him slip out the door. Remus had spent the day sat watching that huge TV, playing vinyls and twirling on the rugs. Sirius hadn’t returned until late that evening, arriving with takeaway, both sitting at the table in silence until Sirius retired for the night. 

Remus lay back down, nuzzling into the cushion, drawing his knees to his chest, prominent ribs nudging his thighs. He hadn’t felt quite so content in a long time, feeling his heart a steady thump beneath his ribs, chest rising up and down in a tranquil rhythm. Placing a hand to his chest, just to check this was real, that he was actually lying there, Remus inhaled into the cotton. Lavender. Soothing purple and blooming his senses into something that felt like serenity - and he wasn’t even high. That shook Remus even more, not knowing how much he missed the comfort of four walls around him, the security of knowing that the only sound was the huffs of his early respiration. Condensation was slick on the windows, droplets falling like tears down the glass. Distantly, Remus heard footsteps approaching down the hall, stopping in front of the door. He swore quietly and pulled the overs further over his frame.

 _Knock knock_. “Remus?”

He held his breath, not knowing why he was so terrified. Sirius seemed good-natured enough - besides the outbursts - but Remus wasn’t one for trusting people quickly (last time had resulted in repressed trauma). The room now quiet with lack of breath, Remus stilled completely, a statue of fear. He was chiselled marble, paralleled to cold fear that ran through his body with icy vengeance.

More knocking. “Remus, are you awake?”

Sighing into the pillow, Remus hummed, hopefully loud enough for Sirius to catch. His voice was gravelly with sleep, coarse with the cigarettes Sirius had leant him over dinner.

The door clinked open, a slither of warm light approaching where Remus lay facing towards it. Sirius head poked through, his hair disheveled with sleep and an unsure smile on his lips. Grey sweatpants were elasticated half way up his ankle, sparse dark hairs disappearing beneath the fabric. A loose white t-shirt was slung over his shoulders, his shadowed collar bones and jaw being displayed like a piece of art. His eyes cast over Remus’ curled form. “Can I come in?”

Completely taken off guard by how uncharacteristic that was of the man he just met, Remus nodded underneath the quilt. This angel was unpredictable, and he snipped at Remus for _his_ mood swings. Muted padding of feet were heard across the carpet, and then Sirius was stood a foot away from where Remus was curled protectively. He cleared his throat. 

“Um, did you have a good sleep?” Sirius asked, rubbing the back of his neck. God, how could Remus _not_ had a good sleep? He’d practically slept like a baby, floating in the clouds of bliss that was the safety of being inside. 

Remus just nodded his head again, not trusting himself to speak. Maybe it was all those times he found himself in a stranger’s house, not remembering anything from the night before, or maybe it was how much it resembled Lyall sneaking into his room after Hope fell asleep. But Sirius wasn’t a stranger - not anymore at least. They’d only crossed paths the previous day, but Remus was trying to trust him, and that was enough for now. 

“Can I?” Sirius gestured to the end of the bed, asking permission to sit. Remus, again, just nodded.

Tentatively, Sirius perched himself on the edge of the mattress, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his knees, swirling his thumbs together. Remus was growing to like the nervous tick, knowing after only a day it meant he was building up to say something important. 

“I, urm,” He took a deep breath, “I’msorryabouthowIspoketoyouyesterday.” Sirius huffed all in one breath, head facing the floor. Remus considered it, slowly releasing the tension from his muscles, eyes barely peaking over the duvet. Sirius clearly didn’t do apologies, but he still pressed on. “I can’t even fathom what it’s like to live on the streets, like, I don’t think I’d survive.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Lily told me what it’s like to, you know, and said it may explain why your mood changes so often. I just wanted to say that it’s okay, and I understand- kind of. I won’t press any further.”

Sirius slowly lifted his head to meet Remus’ curious gaze, grey blending with amber. Eyes bright with coffee, jaw clenching and unclenching with anticipation, Sirius stared deep into his eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, Remus planted his hands on the mattress and pressed himself into a sitting position. He still had his legs drawn to his torso, knees under his chin, a shield to protect himself from the sheer unknown. “‘M sorry too.” He croaked. 

“Good, yeah-“ Sirius stood, looking Remus once over, “-yeah. I made breakfast by the way, beans on toast if you’re in to that.” He gave a shy smile, and slipped through the crack of the door, shutting it quietly behind him. 

Remus was engulfed back into semi-darkness.

Coaxing himself out of bed seemed almost impossible, the warmth of the sheets engulfing him in sweet lavender and gentle cotton. When he was ready, he could eat breakfast, have his first shower in months and watch Sirius’ ridiculously large TV. The thought alone was unusual, anything but what he had come accustomed to. 

Eventually, Remus managed to stand up, feeling a headache beginning to mingle it’s way through his eyeballs. His body began to tremble, nerves shaking with withdrawals. Footfall uneasy as he began to dress, Remus realised the major flaw in this arrangement. Where was he to get his gear? It was precedent that if he didn’t get his fix, Remus would quite literally fall apart before his very eyes. First, he’d begin to shake all over, a headache starting to appear, then he’d feel nauseous, his stomach cramping. Next, the sweats begun, the trembling intensifying as he retches over and over, nothing but blood and bile coming out. The blood wasn’t ruby, because the gems were only visible when he was high. It was just deep red, malicious and penalising Remus’ integrity - what he had left of it. He truly believed if he allowed detox to run his course, Remus would die from the withdrawals. Nobody was willing to take that risk.

Although, when you’re an addict, everything you do seems to contradict itself. You say you don’t want to die, yet you take class A drugs. You want to get sober? You take more heroin. The cycle is vicious, an infinite loop of deceit and self-denial. 

Shuffling out the door and down the hall, Remus saw Sirius idly flicking the beans on his toast with his fork. This seemed to be the perfect moment for an ambush.

“Mornin’” Remus supplied as he sat opposite to him on the kitchen table. Sirius’ eyes flickered upwards, analysing his face before letting his fork hit the plate with a _clank_.

He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and began to speak, ”I have somewhere to be today, so you can-“

”What’s your surname?”

”Excuse me?”

”I’m living with you, so I want to know your name.” Remus demanded. “You seem to know an awful lot about me, so why can’t I know anything about you?”

”It’s Black.” Sirius deadpanned.

”Woaaahhh, you mean-“ Remus gestured two hands flamboyantly forwards, “ _the_ Blacks?”

The Blacks were a well known family across the county, a household name associated with affluential greed. 

Sirius grimaced, scraping his chair back from the table and trudging towards the door. Twirling his arms to pull his leather jacket over his broad shoulders, Remus admired appreciatively. “I’ll be back around midday, so don’t go fucking around.” Sirius jabbed two fingers at his eyes, and then to Remus. “Also, Lily has managed to get you a prescription of... Whatever it is you’ll be taking, and she’ll probably be round soon.” Scrunching his face, Sirius pulled the door handle. “Have a shower mate, no offence.” With that, Sirius whipped out the door, not allowed Remus to get a word in headway. 

Remus hastily ate the beans on toast Sirius had left on the kitchen counter, and made his way to the bathroom. Burnished cream tiles ran in a circuit along the bathroom walls, more white walls and a large shower stall. A gleaming glass screen separated the ‘mini wet room’ from the rest of the bathroom. The toilet was also pristine, it’s polished toilet seat practically shining under the inverted lights, it’s stainless steel handles too. Next to it, the cleansed sink basin sat below a spotless mirror cabinet.

 _A mirror cabinet_. 

Now, Remus knew full well what those cupboards above sinks contained, and would have to ration his strength every time he entered the foreboding bathroom. I mean, it wasn’t like there would be anything worth while? But, the glass glimmered in an almost teasing manner, tempting Remus to open the illusive box. _Come on, open me Remus. See what I have hidden inside_. Maybe, he could give in to forgetting; forgetting the world for a while, forgetting himself. He did deserve it, after all. Remus wondered what Sirius would even keep in the cabinet, and whether it was anything promising. He presumed standard painkillers, plasters and your generic _Savlon_ or _TCP_. Possibly, there could be some anti-depressants (although Remus was not one to pry). Empty cardboard prisons and crinkly plastic packets probably littered the shelves. The mirror ricocheted a slither of light from the inverted overhead bulb, drawing Remus closer, closer. Curiosity was starting to become overwhelming.

Gingerly, Remus slid his feet along the floor tiles, trailing around the perimeter of the room, his back to the wall. Flashes of light taunted Remus, but he never wavered his gaze from the box. Caution was primary, and Remus slowly edged his way into the openness that was the centre of the room. Ambush was possible, but he allowed the vulnerability for now. He reached his hand forward, tentative fingers curling around the lip of the door, rugged edges touching silk. Remus saw his reflection, honey blond curls, bright amber eyes, and suddenly felt 16 again, stealing pills from the family medicine cabinet. It was Hope’s painkillers that started it all: tramadol and codeine taking the edge off reality. Discarded orange pill bottles and missing packets caused speculation, and being an only child, Remus was at the beginning of their predictions. 

Cautiously, he pulled his fingers back towards himself, carrying the cabinet door with him. Shivers of iridescent light ran across Remus’ face, and onto the tiles behind him. He began to mentally check off every item he could see.

 _Nurofen_ , bandages, antiseptic, plasters, _condoms_? Nice to see, Black. Razor blades, antihistamines, empty bottle of cough syrup, diazepam, floss-

Wait.

Fuck. Sirius has fucking _valium_? Did he have any clue how tempting this would be for Remus? Did the phrase ‘smack head’ not ring any bells, signalling him to hide his anxiety medication? Picking up the packet, Remus tried not to hope it felt heavy in his hand. It was all the worst that it did, and he peered into the box to find it was a new prescription. Fuck, indeed.

He pulled one of the plastic strips from the box, turning it over in his hand and reading the little back letters repeating _Diazepam Benzodiazepine_ diagonally, as if Remus didn’t already know what he was about to do. Placing the pad of his thumb to one of the plastic coated pills, he applied force so a small blue pill popped out into the palm of his hand. How something on such a small scale could have such a large impact, Remus didn’t know. Collecting another two (just in case), anticipation was now beginning building. Glancing into the mirror again, Remus tipped his head, knocking the pills back with one dry gulp. _Well, that was that._

“Remus?”

”AAAAA!” Remus yelped, slamming the glass door of the cabinet shut as an automatic reflex. 

“Woah Remus, it’s just me. It’s Lily.” Lily said from the doorway, her auburn hair tied in a knot at the top of her head. “I kept buzzing in and I had to get one of the neighbours to let me in, and then had to use my key when you weren’t opening the door. Sirius told you I was coming right?” Her eyes flickered to the now closed cupboard, raising her eyebrow a fraction.

”No- I mean, yeah Sirius told me. I didn’t hear you buzz in.”

”Ah...” Lily began, “I’ll leave you to shower, if that’s what you’re doing. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” Smiling gently, she turned around and her footfall faded into the hallway. 

Sighing in relief, Remus began to strip for his shower, flinging the offending items across the room so they landed at random. Turning the shower on, he allowed the warm water to run down his back, splash his face and calm his nerves. 

Unfortunately, diazepam only took ten minutes to dissolve into the bloodstream. 


End file.
